To Choose Again
by Ciel In A Dress
Summary: Severus Snape wondered what would happen if he put the sorting hat back on. Which house would it pick for him after all he's been through since his first year at Hogwarts?


**To Choose Again  
**

"_Sometimes I wonder if we sort too soon…"_

The words found their way into his dreams, winding around his subconscious and planting the idea before he even awoke. Upon returning from his dreams into the waking world, he was angry to realise that he was, in fact, curious of how things might have changed. Of course, Dumbledore's favourite idea, _love_, would be the thing that changed him, if, in fact, he had been changed.

Which he doubted.

Seriously.

But it was a thought, a thought worth thinking. There was a horrible implication to be found if he had indeed changed, but he didn't want to think about that yet. He couldn't stand the possibility.

And thus, he found himself standing at the bottom of the staircase leading to Dumbledore's office in the late hours of the night. There was nobody around to see him except the gargoyle, who had already received the password, and still scolded him for his lack of movement onwards, on the basis of wanting to sleep.

Severus was dawdling, not wanting to continue upwards for fear, or embarrassment, at what Dumbledore's reaction would be. Dumbledore would smile gently, understandingly, and Severus wasn't sure he could take that. At the same time he knew he couldn't just leave, not after convincing himself to go this far. He had to know if it was different.

Taking a deep breath and fixing his face on a disdainful expression so as to try and keep at least a bit of his dignity, he took one step further up the staircase, and, after pausing long enough to be sure no suits of armour were going to pounce on him, or rather just procrastinating, he continued.

He didn't knock, hoping Dumbledore wouldn't be in the room. He was lucky. It was empty of conscious beings, apart from the frayed old hat that stood upon the bookshelf. Swallowing his nervousness, he strode quickly towards it and, in one swift move, swiped it from the shelf and placed it atop his own head.

He suddenly became aware of his heartbeat, making a ridiculous racket in the silent room.

He felt very small under the hat, and he remembered how small he was when he first wore it, along with the others who had been first years with him.

He felt the hat stir above him, and he realised it was considering him.

He was hit by a wave of déjà vu, and he let it consume him. He remembered the song the hat had sang, and the particular words which had remained in his memory despite the years. He had felt, at the time, that the line had been written especially for the situation in which he'd found himself.

…_I will choose as I have always done_

_Dividing when we should be as one_

_Friendships do not influence me_

_But those which are, can still be… _

He remembered his and Lily's short time as friends without worry or separation. He remembered the hope that she would be placed in Slytherin, as he most certainly would be. He remembered the choking feeling, as the hat now on his head rested upon hers. He remembered the whispers of those idiot boys behind him, spreading the word that the Snape boy wanted her in Slytherin. He remembered the doubt that he felt deep down because he knew that such a pure-hearted girl could never end up in Slytherin.

And he remembered how his heart broke as they were separated, as the hat announced its verdict of her, as it did again now for him.

"Gryffindor!"

And he felt his heart break again.

Dumbledore chose that moment to appear, coming into view just as the tears began to fall from Severus' eyes.

"You… knew…" he accused Dumbledore quietly, his throat full of despair.

"So did you," Dumbledore answered sadly, not smiling as Severus had expected. "But it's too late now."

Severus did not speak, taking the hat from his head and placing it back on the shelf.

Being a Gryffindor meant he was good enough for Lily. It proved that he cared, proved that he didn't follow He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's ideals about pure-bloods. It was only that difference that made her choose Potter over him, and now it wasn't even a difference at all.

And so the most important question inevitably came to him.

"When did this change?"

For if he'd become worthy of Gryffindor before Lily had married Potter, things would have been entirely different. But that would be the most tragic of knowledge—that he had had the power to change things and missed his chance.

He sunk down onto the floor, bowing his head into his hands.

"Only you can know the answer to that."

He didn't want to know. But, try as he might, he couldn't forget it now that it'd happened.

He felt empty, hollow inside, whereas a moment ago, he could have sworn his insides were burning with cold. He wished he was as old as Dumbledore so that he wouldn't have to feel it so strongly.

"How do you stand it?" Severus asked in a whisper.

"Hope," Dumbledore replied after a pause, lifting his sleeve to show the blackened arm. "But that can be just as dangerous."

* * *

**A/N: Did that make sense? I hope it did… **

**Snape was my worst favourite character until his story came to light, then he quickly became my favourite. I really wish things had been better for him…**

**Since I write a lot of sad stories, I tend to find a song to suit most of them, because I only really listen to sad music. This one was no different. "Take It All Away" by RED is reminiscent of this.**


End file.
